Ya gotta be an Optimist at 7 a.m.!

Saturday, February 14, 2009

One evening in late 1973, maybe it was my first day teaching classes at Cottey, while I sat listening to 33-rpm records (remember them?) on our living room floor, utterly thrilled at how well my students had reacted to their new, 33-year-old New York hippie-teacher, Jack Tyler paid me a visit. Ginny, our 1-year-old daughter Jessica, and I had already met Jack and his wife Paula, and their grey cat Barney, just, I think it was, the day before.

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